Let's Panic

At LET'S PANIC ABOUT BABIES, Eden Kennedy and I share our hard-won wisdom and tell you exactly what to think and feel and do, whether you're about to have a baby or already did and don't know what to do with it.

Readers have asked me to write about Blogher, but I can't. I didn't have the BlogHer experience I wanted to have, and I can't pretend I did, and if I tried to relay my experience I don't think anyone would believe I was at the same conference as all those other amazing people who had such a great time. Because my experience had nothing to do with the conference, it had to do with me. There's something not right in here, and I don't know what the problem is.

What I know is that I'm filled with grief all the time, that I have tried the patience of my friends and family, that I have been less of a mother and wife than I want to be, that I'm terrified that I'm driving away the people I love, that I've barely eaten since I returned. I am sure anyone who saw me at BlogHer will be baffled by this post, because I do an excellent job of hiding in plain sight. But since then something has broken open, and I can't hide. Right now I wish more than anything I could take back the decision to go to this conference, take back the last few months, start over and give you whatever you're here looking for, the anecdote or joke or relief from your day that you probably expect, instead of this sopping mess who's struggling to compose these crappy paragraphs. Even writing this seems awful and self-indulgent, but if I can't be honest here and get this out I will never write here again. I'm barely hanging on, and I'm trying to make sense of what happened to me. Of what's still happening to me.

Please be patient with me as I try to get to the other side of this. I know I will, but getting there means wading through a stunning level of pain and I don't like it one bit.

Reader Comments (324)

I just want to say I appreciate your honesty, and I am so sorry for what you are going through. It is not easy. You will come out on the other side of it, of that I am certain, but the journey surely does suck. Be patient with yourself.

When I was in a similar place, I saw a therapist who specialized in pregnancy loss and infertility and she was incredibly helpful. I'd be happy to give you her name if you want to come back to the 'hood, but you might find someone closer to home here:

Alice, I wish I knew how to say this better: these things happen, and they're always painful, and one can never be ready, and one can only hope that one's friends and family will understand and be true even in such difficult times. Here's hoping for your sake that this passes, and wishing you all the strength in the world.

I could've written what you just wrote. Well, I mean, you wrote it better than I could (!) but I know the depths of what you're feeling. I never lost a pregnancy but I never could get pregnant in the first place and that grief finally piled up on me to the point that I couldn't get out from under it, no matter how much I talked about it or wrote about it. I didn't want to, but I finally asked for help from my doc -- it just took a few months of antidepressants to get over the worst of it (even now I hate typing that -- sounds so lame, but it worked for me). Do not suffer alone. Get help somewhere, whether via conseling or drugs or a support group. You are not alone!

Treat yourself with gentleness and love right now. I didn't comment at the time, but your post about wanting THAT baby, the one you lost, took my breath away. I know lots of people who've suffered miscarriages but never has someone written so exactly WHY it hurts so damn much.

Don't worry about us. Well be back, when you're ready, and not just for The Funny.

I wish I could just grab you into the biggest hug I could possibly give, and then just hug you nonstop for like the next six months.

I wish I could say something funny or wise that would magically make the pain stop for you. Because if I knew what that was, I'd gladly say it over and over again until it worked.

Even though we've never met, I feel like you're my friend, because of your writing. And I'm sitting here with tears in my eyes, because my friend is in such pain and there's nothing I can do.

Please know that we (your readers, friends and family) love you, and we're here for you through the bad stuff as well as the funny anectdotes. We're not going anywhere. Be as honest as you need to be. Be as self-indulgent as you need to be (after all, this is ummm....YOUR website!)Just know there's a bunch of us out here who support you, love you and are rooting for you.

I hope that you're able to find comfort for what's troubling you, and I wish for you strength, solace, and joy.

It's amazing, because here I am thinking you're an incredible, successful writer, and I wish I could have even one iota of your talent and success--I just started reading Sleep is for the Weak, and I would do just about anything to be published in an awesome anthology like that--and it just goes to show, one never knows what someone else's life is really like. You can be the envy of every mama-writer out there, and you can still be suffering. I'm wishing you strength and peace, and I'm also sending you this message: you are an amazing writer; I'm a huge fan. If that matters at all.

Oh, my goodness, Alice! Don't worry about US, dear girl! Take care of YOU! All your readers are pulling for you and are just hoping that things will look up for you soon. The cloud WILL lift, as you noted, we all just wish, as I'm sure you must, that it will be sooner rather than later.

As someone who is also under that fog (and worse) right now, I feel you, girl. Not exactly what you're feeling, of course, but miserable, and not myself, and hopeless, and broken (as you said), and so very, very wrong. I feel useless. I feel I'm dragging my family down. I feel sick of what I perceive as whining and moping and basically being a drop-out.

But I read your honesty and what I see as bravery (though you may not), and it's so clear from the outside that this is what life is dealing you right now, none of us can control that, you are doing an admirable job of wading through it, but in the end, there's no judgment for how anyone gets through this. You just do. You just survive. And you lick your wounds and wait to heal. And keep reminding yourself that you will heal.

We love you and you WILL NOT lose readers. People read blogs for honesty and genuineness and a connection. Laughs are great, but real life is not all giggles. And it's your real life that people come to read. Keep writing if it feels like it helps...don't when it doesn't. You'll get back to yourself.

Poor wording,, sorry: I meant under a fog and also under something worse than a fog.

Did NOT mean worse than YOUR fog. I hate when people compare who is suffering more than whom, so felt compelled to clarify lest you think I was off on a "You think YOU'VE got it bad..." misguided crusade.

you're so brave to share all this....too many of us know exactly how you feel right now....just know you're never alone in all that.....3 years have passed and i still wonder often who that baby of mine would have been......nothing has ever hurt so much

I am so very sorry you are feeling these things. Please dont feel any responsibilty to us readers...we are here because we love not only your writing, but through reading it we have come to love you too. (not in a creepy way! A good way!) Take care of yourself, but mostly let other people take care of you. Those other people might include a few professionals, and that is okay too. We all just want the best for you. (hugs)H

Oh, hon. We come here for you. Nothing more, nothing less. You don't have to perform for us. Don't feel you have to post if you don't want to. And if you do want to post about your grief, your sadness, and the whole general horribleness of right now, go ahead. I wish I could say something, anything, to make you feel just a bit better, but I know I can't. Just know that you're loved, even by the hundreds of people who only know you through this blog, and that we feel for you, and all hope you get through this and feel better soon. xxx

Your honesty is astounding, how simply you state your continuing grief- my thoughts are with you, and as little as I REALLY know you (through this blog, and I rarely comment) I believe that you have the strength to do this- maybe not without help, but what else is help for? Soldier on, a day at a time, and take your tears when you can.

Is it wrong that I do come here for "some whiskey-swilling 1960s comedy writer who's afraid of getting canned if he can't come up with the funny while his life is falling apart?" Sorry, Slim, but that just cracked me up! Love the comment!In all honesty, Alice, I agree with the choir. Do what you need to do. We'll still be here waiting patiently for you with big internet luvs. :o)

Oh, Alice, I'm so sorry to hear that you're having a rough time. I feel like I know you personally, almost (not in a weirdo stalker way), and I know you'll get through this. You're brilliant and hilarious and obviously a wonderful wife and mother. I'll pray that your clouds lift soon.